Keefer Family Portrait
by CMemlovr
Summary: The progression of Sloan and Don's relationship, post-series (written for my secret santa over on Tumblr, sloansabbith). Incredibly fluffy.


**July, 2013:**

"I feel like I'm being tested right now," complains Sloan loudly, her finger swirling a dollop of syrup on her plate lazily.

"It's not a test, I just – you've really _never _held a baby, Sloan?" Don insists, disbelief colouring his tone as he forgets the original vein of the conversation that had prompted this discussion: Will and Mac's little _surprise._

"I don't see what's so hard to understand," she reasons. In truth, it makes perfect sense. She'd never really been the type to go starry-eyed over infants – they were too loud for her to appreciate their (admittedly) cute features. Sure, she had younger siblings, but Sloan's parents had not been entirely keen on the idea of letting their eldest daughter hold them as babies. This worked out well enough for Sloan who, at eight years old, was already dreading having to feign interest in the drooling things. "Pass me another waffle?" she prompts, toeing his shin under the table.

Smiling briefly at her behaviour (which is now redundant but has become a sort of ritual for them), Don tosses a waffle onto her syrup stained plate, enjoying the way her fingers delicately rip it apart. "You have two younger brothers!" protests Don, eager to understand how Sloan had managed this particular feat. "Not to mention the two nephews and niece born of those brothers -"

"Technically, they were born of my brothers' wives, but point taken."

"So? How have you gotten this far in life without holding a single baby?"

"I don't know – would you trust me with a baby? I can barely hold a cat…"

"I would absolutely trust you," replies Don instantly – the question hadn't required the slightest bit of thought from Don. Having dated Sloan for just under a year, and having known her far longer, Don knows that despite her assertions that nurturing is "not her thing", she is one of the most caring people he knows. She might not go dewy eyed over babies like other women - but he's not with her because she's like other women. He loves her because she's perfect for him. Of course, they'd only _very _recently allowed each other to say 'I love you', so babies might be a bit ahead of them yet. Still, Don can't help but consider his and Sloan's child… Letting the matter drop, Don knows that if he keeps this discussion going, Sloan's just going to retreat.

"Then you're a really sweet liar," she retorts with a chuckle, nibbling away at an incredibly syrupy waffle.

'Nope, she's not there yet,' notes Don quietly.

**June, 2014:**

"Keefer!" calls Sloan, mock-sternly.

"Yeah, Sloan?" replies Don, grinning lazily into his phone.

"I miss you," she informs him quietly, "and so does Tyler."

"I miss you too, babe. I'll be home soon, though. I wrapped up here about an hour ago and I should be home in a few hours. On another note – when did we decide on _Tyler_?"

"It's a cute name!" she protests, chuckling as she pats his small head.

"Surely you could've chosen a more feline-appropriate name for our cat, Sloan," laughs Don.

"But he's so much smarter than other cats – he deserves a name that reflects that: a more human name. Besides, your suggestion was just _stupid._"

"I think Fuzzybutt is perfectly acceptable for a cat."

"It's stupid," she repeats, hearing his grin through the phone. "Isn't that right, Tyler? Yes, yes it is. Oooh, you agree with me? Good boy," she coos, causing Don to snort.

'Not maternal _my ass_,' thinks Don, hearing her interact with their cat. In the background, he hears a timer go off and Sloan excuses herself, telling Don to "talk to Tyler." Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Don is content to listen to Sloan's movements and Tyler's purring (he can only assume that the cat is _very _close to the phone, judging by how loud the noise is). Amusing himself with the thought of how far they've progressed in their relationship so far – six months ago he and Sloan moved into a new apartment together and last week they decided on adopting Tyler from the pound. Lost in his own thoughts, he misses Sloan's gasp in the background as it merges with Tyler's purrs.

"Don?" Sloan intones quietly, her voice trembling slightly.

Immediately Don is put on guard – his girlfriend (soon to be fiancé if he plays his cards right this month) is rarely ever _quiet._ "What's up, Sloan?" he says sensitively.

"Damn you to hell, Keefer," she breathes primly.

"What'd I do this time?" he yelps, surprised by the change in direction the conversation has taken.

"You got me pregnant," she informs him archly, too shocked to actually take in how big the pronouncement she's made over the phone really is.

"I- Oh my God, Sloan! How did-"

"Keefer, if you finish that question I will answer it literally," she threatens, deadpan.

"I just – shit."

"My sentiments exactly."

Don feels panic rising inside of him and desperately attempts to swallow it. Cursing this particular situation – his being away for a few days and Sloan finding out by herself (of course his independent girlfriend would do that, he muses). Returning his attention to the phone, he is unsurprised that Sloan has already started running her mouth.

"And I think, maybe, this is okay, y'know? We have the space for it and, uh, we have a cat – apparently it's good for kids to grow up with animals – and it's not like we're financially insecure or anything…"

"Sloan?" interrupts Don slowly.

"Yeah?" she replies, hesitantly.

"Are you okay with this? Like, happy?"

"I guess – I mean, yes. Yes. It's a big step – and I think it might've been better if we'd planned this but, yeah, Don. I'm happy."

At her response Don is elated, a smile finding his lips before he can suppress it. She's right, of course – planning might have been preferable to being caught with a little surprise, but it's not like they were incapable of caring for a baby. They can do this together. Don laughs into the phone happily and listens as Sloan joins him on the other end, a kind of disbelief colouring their laughter. This is really happening – to them.

Suddenly, a thought strikes Don that sends him into genuine fits of nervous laughter – if he and Sloan couldn't decide on an appropriate name for a cat, how were they going to name a baby?

**September, 2014:**

They stand side-by-side in the room that will soon be a nursery, gazing at the blank walls in awe; a blank canvas for them to create the perfect space for their baby. Despite the fact that it's been five months and Sloan's started to show (started a while ago, actually), both she and Don are still amazed by the fact that this is actually happening _to them. _

"What about blue?" suggests Sloan, slowly.

"And if it's a girl?" replies Don.

"Blue is a neutral colour! I don't care what anyone else has to say – baby girls can like blue in the same way that baby boys can like pink!" retorts Sloan tersely.

"Woah- slow down there," placates Don, "All I'm saying is that, if we have a girl or a boy they might prefer a colour that isn't the stereotypical blue-or-pink."

"What are you suggesting, Keefer?" murmurs Sloan tiredly.

"Well, you obviously like blue – considering the number of times you've pitched it-"

"This isn't a rundown meeting, Don," interrupts Sloan snarkily.

Sighing, Don continues, "how about a sky pattern? One that transitions from sunset to sundown, with a blue sky across the ceiling?" suggests Don hesitantly, aware that Sloan is tiring and liable to snap from frustration.

Sloan considers the idea slowly – it's a good idea – it would be easy to match furniture and curtains to and is gender neutral to boot.

"I like it," she declares. "Now, waffles. With ice-cream."

Chuckling, Don guides Sloan by the shoulders, massaging them gently as he pushes her down into the couch, gentle in his movements. Reaching down, he strokes her growing belly with his palm, Don allows a grin to spread across his lips. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to Sloan's lips, smiling against hers in wonder – she's carrying _his _baby.

Turning to the kitchen, Don yells over his shoulder, "peanut butter?"

"You have to ask?" jokes Sloan. "Yes peanut butter – and syrup. But mostly, and I can't stress this enough, ice-cream."

"You got it."

**December, 2015:**

Sloan smiles as she places reindeer antlers on Liam's head, laughing as he immediately attempts to bat them away.

"You don't like them, do you baby?" she laughs, kissing his small, red nose (she'd painted it earlier with the hopes of dressing him like Rudolph for the holiday party). Wrinkling his nose contentedly, Liam squeezes his eyes shut, enjoying his mother's attention. Then, laughing, he reaches for her earrings, winding his arm back to yank-

"No, Liam. We don't do that to momma – remember what happened last time?" asks Don with a chuckle. "Sloan – why does my son look like a reindeer? I thought we agreed that he wasn't allowed to leave the house in the onesie."

"I know, but – isn't he cute? Mac and I thought it might be nice if Liam and Charlie were dressed like twins…"

"And what, Charlie's one of the girl reindeer?" asks Don, sceptically.

"Yeah," replies Sloan, "or she could just be a female Rudolph. I don't know."

"How long do you think the paint will stay on this time?" laughs Don, watching as his son swirls his finger in the paint on his nose and dabs little red fingerprints all over his cot. Grabbing a wet-wipe, Don deftly removes the paint from Liam's fingers, taking the opportunity to play with his small hands – kissing each finger before pretending to eat them. Familiar with this game, Liam pulls his hand away, squealing with laughter.

"If it stays on longer than it did at Halloween, then we've already done better," laughs Sloan, swiping another dab of red face-paint and applying it to Liam's smudged nose. Kissing his forehead, Sloan joins in the fun, tickling Liam's stomach as he laughs hysterically, enjoying the limelight.

"Mama," laughs Liam, "stop!" he pleads, drawing out the word cutely and giggling madly.

"Do you really want me to stop, baby?" she pouts, her fingers still tickling his wriggling belly.

"yes," he shrieks, his laughter filling the air.

"Did you hear that, Don, he wants you to stop," chuckles Sloan, "Don't you, bubba – you want daddy to stop, right?" she asks, solemnly directing her attention to her squirming baby.

"No," insists Liam seriously, "mama stop," his small face solemn like his mother's.

"You hear that, Sloan, he wants _mama _to stop," Don informs Sloan mock-seriously.

Laughing, Sloan turns her attention to Don instead, pinching his (rapidly softening) belly and poking him mercilessly. Giggling, Liam sits up to watch his parents turn on one another. Turning to their son, Sloan lifts him up from her bed, hoisting him over her hip as Don comes behind her, pressing his lips gently to hers over their son's head.

"You look stunning, Sloan," murmurs Don against her lips. Running his hand over the soft black fabric of her sheath dress, Don leans in and presses a kiss to Liam's forehead.

"My boys don't look too bad either," smiles Sloan, proud of how cute her son looks, snuggled in her arms and how smart Don looks – out of his worn (and admittedly comfortable) flannel shirts. "Isn't that right, Liam?"

"Yes," replies Liam certainly, not entirely aware of what his mother is actually asking him, but eager to please.

"Merry Christmas, babe," smiles Don, pressing his wife and son into his chest.

_**I hope everyone has had a great Christmas (or any other holiday that you may celebrate at this time of year :) ) - slightly late posting this, but it was my Secret Santa present to sloansabbith on Tumblr. If you enjoyed reading this, please leave a review! **_

_**All the best for New Year's! :D**_

**_CMEmLovr :) x  
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